


You Think You Know a Man

by Guede



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, M/M, Manchester United, Pre-Slash, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guede/pseuds/Guede
Summary: Ryan Giggs and Roy Keane having a coffee.
Relationships: Ryan Giggs/Roy Keane
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	You Think You Know a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LiveJournal in 2010.

_That’s ridiculous, because footballers do not transform into werewolves—not since Roy Keane stopped playing anyway._  
\--[Gregg Roughly, _Guardian_](http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2010/may/03/blackburn-rovers-arsenal-live-premier-league)

* * *

Roy hunched his shoulders and stared deep into his mug, uncommonly pensive for once. Him being thoughtful and quiet wasn’t anything new, not for people who’d known him away from all that bluster and bullshit that was the game these days, but there was a morose quality to his expression that was new to Ryan.

“Well,” Roy finally said. “You lot always wondered what it was that put me off drink for good.”

“We did,” Ryan agreed. He raised his coffee to his lips and winced as the gesture pulled at the fresh scratches on his shoulders and arms. They weren’t too bad, but he was going to have a hell of a time explaining them to the gaffer in the morning. Yesterday’s training hadn’t been that rough. Maybe he could say he’d tried some gardening, and come off the worse for it. “So—”

“All that shite about it just taking a scratch isn’t true,” Roy abruptly said. He kept his eyes down but his hand had tightened around his mug. His nostrils were flaring out of time with his words. Instinct made Ryan glance under the table, but Triggs was still stretched out there, calm as could be, and he probably knew Roy the best these days. “You’ll be fine.”

Ryan nodded. In all honesty he hadn’t even thought of that. “That guff about taking the dog for all those walks, that…”

“It’s a reason. People seem to need them.” Roy shrugged. A little color bled back into the whitened joints of his fingers. “Triggs took a while to get used to it, but he’s all right now. Dogs and wolves, they can get along. He’s good at keeping an eye on me.” His eyes rose just long enough to stab his talking points into Ryan’s brain. “I’ve got it in hand, I want you to know. No need to worry.”

“Except for—”

“Well, you bloody showed when you should’ve phoned,” Roy snapped. Now that Ryan thought about it, the man had always had fey eyes. Dark, but when Roy was angry they could flash as white-hot as lightning.

But the anger only lasted a moment, a sign if nothing else of how hard Roy was taking it. He dropped his head again, then put his elbow up and pressed his hand into his forehead. His nostrils were still flaring occasionally, mostly whenever Ryan moved. Ryan flicked a nail at one of the scabs on his arm and opened up the cut, and Roy slammed up tight on himself. Not moving a muscle but for that slow up-and-down bob of his throat. If his head had been up, Ryan would’ve known someone was about to get a taste of Gaelic fury, but Roy locked his head down to his chest.

“Sorry,” Ryan said. He pressed his thumb over the cut till he figured it’d scabbed over again, then drank his coffee. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in, see how you were doing. One of your neighbors said he’d seen you come out that way, and I thought I’d catch you instead of bothering Teresa.”

“It’s nice to see you.” Roy snorted. His arm dropped under the table and Ryan heard Triggs whine an inquiry. “Doubt it’ll happen again, so I appreciate it.”

Ryan sighed, and put his drained mug down. “I’ll phone ahead next time. Suppose I shouldn’t even bother if Ipswich hasn’t done well that weekend.”

Now Roy looked up. He frowned, then opened his mouth.

“Alex know?” Ryan asked.

For a moment it looked like Roy was going to run over the question with his own, but eventually he just nodded. He shifted in his seat, his shoulders rolling back. “Since almost the start. Ryan—”

“You know who it was that did it to you?” When Roy shook his head, uncertainty ill-fitting his face, Ryan couldn’t help a dry chuckle. He pushed the mug over to the other man, then gingerly began to pull his coat over his arms. “Shame. I’d have a word or two with them about looking after your messes. You do that to a man, you don’t just leave him.”

“I don’t think it’s that sort of business,” Roy said slowly.

Ryan shrugged and got up. “Well, to my mind it is. I’ve got to run now, figure out what to tell the gaffer tomorrow, but I’ll see you and Triggs sometime, all right?”

He smiled at Roy. Triggs started up to his feet, a growl on his lips, and then fell silent. Ryan looked at the dog and Triggs cocked his head, puzzled. Then he stretched out his muzzle and took a good sniff at the hand Ryan held out to him.

When Ryan looked back at Roy, the man’s eyes were wide as eggs and he seemed to have nothing to say. There wasn’t that much that could be said anyway; Roy seemed to have informed himself well enough, despite the lack of help.

“I’ll see you,” Ryan said again. He started to put out his hand, but Roy stiffened up. Still a little too close to the change, but Ryan understood that. He waved off Roy’s apology. “No, I’ve got to go. I don’t think either of us have the time to sort it out now, so we’ll just leave it till the next time.”

“Will we.” The old steel was back in Roy’s voice, Ryan was glad to see. Give the man something to work on and he was all right. “We’d better, after that.”

There was a new undertone to Roy’s tone, a soft snarling challenge, but Ryan understood that too. Roy had always needed to know exactly where people stood with him—where people stood in relation to him—and he’d need to have that sussed out even more now. But they really didn’t have the time; to be honest, Ryan’s knees didn’t need that sort of fight either. Pity that some things didn’t carry over to the pitch.

But, he thought as he let himself out, he had to admit he was glad to see some things carried on off it. He’d missed Roy, but they’d not had that much to bring their paths together after Roy had gone to Celtic. He was looking forward to catching Roy on his next walk out.


End file.
